Saviour Or Destroyer?
by LJ-Of-Asgard
Summary: Held captive with the prospect of an untimely death looming upon the horizon, Loki is a prisoner of war, but when Asgard's future hangs in the balance, Thor must find Loki and free him. A task that is easier said than done, especially when the prisoner is fighting a war of his own. / No pairings
1. Prologue

**A.N: Hey guys. I decided I might try and write something a bit more story-like, y'know, with a vague plot and things? :P Heh. This is a very rusty story, I'll admit, but it's an idea that came to me a few days ago and I just looked into it a bit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or their characters. If I did, I'd be making this goddamn movie, because I swear it looks much better in movie form!  
**

**- Prologue -  
**

In his mind, Odin was a grand King and one of the mightiest of the Aesir. In the days when Thor and Loki were young princes and Odin was off fighting in the greatest battles, he was the embodiment of Asgard in its glory. Proud, mighty and many would say fearless, but also wise and a symbol of hope to the Nine Realms. But now, Heimdall could not see past the empty shell that was Odin. He was a broken man, a broken King. Sunken eyes and face worn with age and distress, he simply lacked the will to live. Even now, in his throne, he sat slumped to one side, elbow atop the armrest and his head resting on a clenched fist. Tired and beaten, his eye was clouded with ghosts of the past, and the Gatekeeper knew that the one heavy burden he carried aside from the ongoing war was the estrangement of his son, Loki. He'd hoped this bit of news would restore some faith in the King that he would see his son again.

"Speak." the Allfather raised his hand tiredly, gesturing for Heimdall to talk.

"I believe that Thor is wanted on Midgard by the people he knows so well as the 'Avengers'. The man they call Stark was calling out for me to alert Thor. It seems that there is a disturbance once again." Heimdall spoke softly and with the sense of knowledge he always held, the gold of his eyes were bright with what seemed like hope, but to Odin that was a forgotten feeling.

Odin contemplated this for a few moments, before raising his head to fix Heimdall with a broken stare.

"But I _need_ Thor."


	2. 1: The Stolen Relic

**A.N: Gaah, so much wordy-ness and not enough dialogue. I promise it won't all be like this X) but I suppose this is more of an English GCSE writing practice, in my mind, this story is a movie and a rather decent looking movie at that. ANYWAY. Enough of my blabbing. Constructive criticism particularly welcomed - it's all I can do to improve! :)**

* * *

Thor wandered aimlessly through the palace that he called home, passing golden door after golden door until he reached the grand double doors of the banquet hall. Reaching out, his palm met the door with a quiet thud only audible to himself, and he pushed it open. The god was greeted with the comforting warmth of the sun, which streaked through the high windows of the hall and bathed it in a golden hue.

Thor looked around to find an empty hall, and the door shut behind him with a loud clang, disrupting the peace of the room. When the only thing that was audible in the hall was his own loud breathing, Thor walked towards the balcony entrance, each footstep seeming louder than the last. He reached another set of grand doors, and pushed them open to let the outside in.

As if on cue, the sun retreated behind dark clouds that brought the possibility of a storm, only this time; it was not within Thor's control. Asgard was at war. A war that had ravaged the Realm Eternal to the core until it was no longer a beacon of hope but a ruin of despair.

Thor was utterly helpless as he stared out at what was once a golden city, but was now burning and broken. His mind was far too occupied to make sense of anything but the war, which was one thing. Though the war had receded for the time being, it made no difference and did nothing to ease the pressure on Thor to protect his home and his people.

Asgard had lost most of its forces to the might of a combined Jotunn/Chitauri offense, and training new warriors did not happen overnight. If that pressure wasn't already enough, the Jotunn/Chitauri unification had led many to speculate on Loki's involvement; even the Allfather himself had doubts of whether his estranged son may indeed be leading this war from whatever far corner of the Yggdrasil he was currently in.

And that was the other thing. Loki.

Thor had been relieved to find that his brother was in fact, alive after he fell from the Bifrost into the abyss. Odin had been incredibly reserved and solemn in the weeks following Loki's suspected death. Thor had never seen his father in such a state before, it unsettled him and caused tensions in the palace to run high. Thor recalled it feeling like a heavy weight pulling on each single nerve strand in his body until he felt like he could, quite literally, snap in half.

The bloody war was Thor's only release, but what kind of monster derives pleasure from wading knee-deep in blood? Even if it was the blood of his enemies; it stained his hands and simply remained as a constant reminder of the unjustifiable deaths of thousands and the loss of one. A vicious circle that even the mighty Thor could not break. Not with the force of Mjolnir, nor his own strength. Not with his words and even less so with his ways.

And so it seemed with every body that fell at his own hands, his father caved in on himself further and further, his withered frame could only stand so much pressure thrust upon his shoulders. Odin was a tired king, and a tired king was no longer a king but a weakened body that sat upon the throne and bore the pressures he could no longer bear.

He mourned for his son, just as Thor mourned for his brother. However, after learning of Loki being alive, a spark of life seemed to reignite within Odin. The Allfather had sent Thor to get him and _'bring him home'_, Thor remembered the exact words as though Odin spoke them to him now, but he could only recall them with a harrowing feeling of guilt. It was _he_ who had driven Loki mad with power, after living in his shadow for so long, and he felt increasingly guilty with everything that happened to Loki outside of Asgard, remembering that it all fell back to him.

At least, that's what Thor believed.

When he brought Loki back after the battle in New York, he was still not convinced of Loki's actions, or the reasoning behind them.

Loki was confined to his chambers by Odin who was unable to exert any further punishment at the time, and was guarded constantly. Thor had decided to spend the first few days with his brother, attempting to extract any amount of information from him about, well, anything. But Loki was having none of it; he refused to talk and turned to simply ignoring Thor completely. Thor persisted, knowing that Loki's resolve was impressive, but it would not - could not - last forever.

On the 4th day that Thor had gone and talked to his brother, he had expected an ever defiant Loki as he pushed open the door to his chambers. Instead, the thunder god was greeted with a trembling mass of skin and bones, curled up in the foetal position upon the cold stone floor, emerald cape lying like a shadow next to the figure. Thor was incredibly alarmed and shaken by this sight; he called for the guards to summon the Allfather. This had alerted Loki to Thor's presence.

The younger god stirred, and it took one look from Loki, in which Thor could see just how deep the Chitauri had dug their revolting claws into the recesses of Loki's mind. The green orbs became swirling clouds of chaos the longer he looked, screaming out for help, and Thor found himself unable to bear the intense gaze any longer. This solidified Thor's belief that the damage that Loki had inflicted upon Midgard was not entirely of his own doing.

However, Loki's return had stirred up a conflict between Asgard and Jotunheim once more. Old wounds had been reopened and new ones added. The death of Laufey only added fuel to the fire, and upon learning it was one of Odin's whelps who dared threaten the Jotunn King, the Jotunns sought their revenge. War was soon upon Asgard, but it was easily manageable. Thor dared to say it was too easy, and that this was not a Jotunn war.

And he was right. A Chitauri invasion had begun on the weakest side of Asgard, where guards had been drafted in to fight in the Jotunn skirmish which was no more than a 'petty courtyard fight', as Thor would put it. The Chitauri quickly invaded the unguarded fortress and swept through the palace.

In the midst of the battle that had spread across the two sides of Asgard, Thor had seen a party of the Chitauri carry a body, or at least, it seemed like a body – not showing any signs of life. But then Thor saw the familiar green of his cloak, the familiar glint of his silver daggers upon his belt, the dented and scuffed armour, all of which he knew with a growing sense of unease, belonged to Loki.

A crippling fear washed through Thor, turning his blood icy and his breath ragged. With a ferocious roar, the god had aimed Mjolnir towards the group, intent on stopping their escape, but in a flash of blinding blue light, they were gone. Loki had been captured. Dead or alive, he did not know. The Jotunns had receded with the flash of the Tesseract energy signaling that the Chitauri had got what they came for.

But now, standing upon this balcony and looking out over the war-torn Asgard, Thor no longer simply wanted to find Loki. No, he had to find him. It was not a question of what people wanted now, it was what people needed. Thor could not stop this war, Odin could not stop this war, Asgard's defences could not stop this war. 'So be it' had not held fast for Odin this time.


	3. 2: Niflheim

Stars glinted upon the inky night sky, their light occasionally shrouded by a passing cloud. The cloud lingered for a moment, casting a temporary shadow across empty streets. Time seemed to pause. Nothing moved, the trees ceased to sway as the gusts of bone-chilling wind died down slowly. Noises grew silent, the birds of the night becoming little more than dots that marred the pale, gleaming surfaces of the clouds, slowly shrinking, until they disappeared completely.

Loki stared out across the eerie silence of Dublin's north side from his perch upon the highest branch of a century old oak tree that lingered on the outskirts of a thick forest, the twisting roots ravaging the earth around it like a serpent would ensnare its prey. The weather worn trunk bore the recent dagger marks of Loki's ascent to his current viewpoint.

Loki watched for a few more moments, and the cloud moved on once more, casting the glow of the stars out again. Loki's thin lips slowly stretched into a smile, not one of happiness, but one of anticipation, yet his azure eyes seemed restless, darting from point to point in uncertainty. A rare emotion for Loki, who felt foolish. Uncertainty?

He had nothing to fear. _Not yet, _he thought, as he recalled familiar words, uttered to him in the grating voice that belonged to a Skrull.

Tearing his mind away from the Chitauri for little more than a moment, the Trickster glanced upwards, watching as the inky blackness was slowly tinged with the blue-grey light of dawn, casting an eerie glow across his porcelain skin that was marred with crude battle wounds, some were raw and the harsh redness only emphasized Loki's apparent disarray.

The Chitauri would find him soon if he didn't return, the copy of himself that he'd left in his rotting cell would not last forever, and the amount of energy he had to use with depleted magic was draining him quickly.

Loki slowly, nimbly receded down the tree, the daggers making quick work of the trunk. He reached the bottom, and the force of the impact elicited a pained noise from the trickster, who clutched his side with ragged breaths.

These past months may well have consisted of him stranded and left to die in the cold wasteland of Niflheim. Unable to heal, he was left with several broken ribs and a plethora of nasty cuts and gashes all over his torso. He was too weak to run and hide from his captors, too frightened to return to Asgard – not that he could right now – and his mind was too far gone in the clutches of the Chitauri. What hope was there for him? Loki turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest as a clap of thunder boomed across Dublin.

* * *

Thor stood on the broken edge of the Bifrost, peering into the abyss with a harrowing feeling of unease. In his time on Midgard with Jane, Erik and Darcy, he'd learnt many things, most of which had been pushed to the back of his mind at this point in time, but one stood out for him, he'd heard it one evening when Jane had happened upon a spider in the bathroom.

"_God, Jane! It's just a cute little spidey!" Darcy exclaimed, jumping up from her seat to rescue the creature. Jane had her back up against the wall, occasional whimpers escaping her, much to Darcy's amusement. The darker haired girl sauntered into the bathroom armed with a glass and a piece of paper she'd picked up on her way over, happily singing along to whatever song was on the radio at the time.  
"Justgetit!" Jane babbled, the knot of fear in her stomach tightened as Darcy quickly caught the little black spider. The singing really wasn't helping.  
"Jeez, Jane, you gotta face your fears someday." Darcy turned towards the cowering physicist, whose glare prompted her assistant to think 'wow, if looks could kill.'_

"_Okay, okay!" Darcy quickly scuttled out of the bathroom to put the spider outside._

"_Why must you face a fear if you do not wish to do so?" Thor had questioned, after watching the exchange with slight amusement, but more confusion. These mortals really put themselves into silly situations. Jane jumped at Thor's booming voice. Straightening herself up and pulling herself together, she turned to Thor, smiling slightly at his confusion.  
"It's a.. thing," Jane waved her hands vaguely, "People think that if you face your fear, it will magically cure you of said fear." she scoffed incredulously. _

"_No thanks!" she added with a small, uneasy laugh. Thor simply nodded in understanding, his brow furrowed in thought._

A spider, admittedly, was a minor fear compared to his.

Thor felt unsteady on the jagged edges of the destroyed Bifrost; his body felt like it was being pulled down. Down towards the blackness that threatened to engulf him completely.

The gnawing sense of unease quickly escalated into an icy fear that ran through Thor's veins and froze him in place, eyes locked onto the abyss. He wanted nothing more than to break the darkness, to simply lift Mjolnir and smash the darkness to shards with the force of its strike.

It wasn't the fear of the dark, more so the fear of what had happened in that particular darkness that ravaged Thor's mind with each passing moment that he was stood there.

"Thor." Odin's ragged voice sent Thor's train of thought crashing, and he turned to face the Allfather. Odin watched Thor's reactions with a degree of uncertainty. Could he trust Thor to hold his own on Midgard? Alone? The recent events had plagued his son just as much as he, and it did not take a scholar to be able to see that Thor was not the god he used to be.

"Are you ready?" Odin spoke again, leaning heavily upon his staff. Thor looked up, noticing Heimdall standing behind the Allfather, looking forlorn but the gold of his eyes remained bright with the knowledge he always held.

Thor took one last look down at the abyss, before walking away from the edge and to his father.  
"I am." he replied firmly, his grip tightening upon Mjolnir as he prepared for his descent to Midgard once again.

Odin nodded, raising one arm to rest his hand upon Thor's shoulder, at first in a comforting gesture, but then his stare went blank and a golden light began to filter through his withered fingers, growing brighter and brighter until they engulfed Thor completely.

Thor could feel the warmth of the power down to his bones, his eyes slid shut and he let the golden energy twist and curve in spirals around him and pull him to Midgard. The bright light was a comforting change from the dead blackness of the abyss that plagued his mind. Before Odin's magic completed its task, he heard his father speak.  
"Bring him home, Thor."

* * *

"Is that him?" Steve Rogers stared up at the swirling mass of black clouds above the north-side of Dublin, flashes of blinding lightening stalked their way to the ground and back again in mere seconds, and the rolls of thunder rattled through him, making the soldier more and more anxious with every passing second.

"Who else arrives to Earth like that?" Tony Stark muttered, although it lacked his usual amount of snarkiness, it was still enough of a jab to make Steve glare at the billionaire, before returning his attention to the clouds again.

"I can't believe that actually worked." A rather incredulous sounding Natasha Romanoff spoke in between thunder claps. Clint Barton let out a small, strained laugh at this. Tony had essentially been shouting at the sky yesterday for a solid 10 minutes, in a rather impressive monologue to Heimdall about why the Avengers needed Thor on Earth again.

"Good call on that, by the way." Clint said to an apprehensive looking Bruce Banner, who took his attention away from the swirling clouds for a moment to crack a small smile at Clint.

In another blinding flash of lightning, something hit the ground with a resonating boom, the kind that reached the pit of your stomach and rattled through your chest, the kind that made the little hairs on your arms stand up on end in anticipation, or maybe fear.

The dust settled to reveal a rather bedraggled looking Thor standing there, clutching Mjolnir tightly in his right hand. Cuts and bruises marred his broad, Norse face, his hair was matted together with blood and sweat and quite frankly, he looked awful. But that wasn't what struck the Avengers as odd or deeply unsettling. It was the look in the god's electric blue eyes. Feral, like a wild animal that was ready to attack. But somewhere in those swirling, chaotic orbs, you could see that he was completely and utterly lost.

* * *

**A.N: Ah, I picked a great time to write a fic, smack bang in the middle of exam season! XD So I apologise for slow updates from here on in.**

**Yasamand - ahh, thank you! :3 I'm glad the characters are coming across well, that was one of my biggest worries about this fic! And heh, good to see you picked up on that little reference :P**


	4. 3: No More Than Memories

**A.N: sorry I took so long to update. this is why you don't start writing 3 fics at the same time, okay guys? XD On the plus side, I have an exam-free week ahead of me, so that means more time to write! :D **

**huggablelove - I'm in Year 10, so I have both Lang. and Lit. GSCEs ahead, so now is a good a time as any to hone my writing skills for the shedloads of coursework that I'll be snowed in with soon, heh ^.^ Thank you for your reviews!  
**

**And everyone else - your reviews made my day, you fabulous people :P I'm actually really surprised that you guys are getting the sense of character, I never thought that was one of my strong points! X) Thank you!  
**

**And now, on with the (very short, sorry!) chapter...  
**

* * *

Upon Thor's descent, he'd brought down a jarring tension that deeply unsettled the gathered Avengers. A moment of silence stretched into much more than a moment, as Thor's gaze swept over the familiar faces with a cold, calculating study of each registering in his sharpened mind.

He would not speak first, why should he? They had called him.

"Hey, big guy?" Tony broke the silence; it smashed to pieces like glass would break, and jolted the Avengers back to reality.

Thor looked to Tony with a curt nod, but nothing else. As if to simply say that he was indeed listening.

There was no emotion lining his face, no giveaway in his body language, there was simply nothing that made Thor remotely human, or Asgardian, if you put it that way. The wild, feral eyes had simply glazed over with a neutral expression, and the electric blue seemed to dull.

"What the hell happened to you?" Tony murmured, thinking aloud.

The snarling that resounded from the Asgardian alerted him that maybe that wasn't the best topic of conversation right now.

Everyone was startled by Thor's harsh response, and so no-one made another move to speak to him.

"You called for me." Thor spoke with a voice that sounded like his throat had been ripped to shreds. It was grating, and drove further discomfort into the hearts of the Avengers.

Bruce was struggling with the tension. If they didn't lighten it, the Other Guy would make an impromptu appearance. The scientist pushed himself to move forwards, towards Thor, despite the god's aggressiveness.

"We did, Thor. Come with us, and we'll explain along the way, yeah?" he spoke calmly and at a steady volume, which made Thor a little more comfortable.

The god nodded curtly, and followed Bruce with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, as if trying to block out something.

The unease was gradually shifted as Bruce left with Thor, much to the relief of the remaining Avengers.

Tony had been unusually quiet, the bounds of discomfort were still wrapped tight around his muscles and he was locked into place, his mind running haywire. He hadn't made a huge effort with Thor in the time he'd been to Earth before, but Thor was counted as a friend nonetheless, and it was strange to see him so empty, and he would go as far to say that Thor had been, essentially, broken. Beyond repair? He didn't know. And he got the feeling it was going to be another task entirely to find out.

* * *

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the cold stone floor of his cell, trying to prop himself up against a wall and jarring in pain every time he slipped and made contact with the rough slate. His body simply no longer had the strength to support what was left of him.

He, Loki, once a noble prince of Asgard, had been reduced to nothing by the most barbaric race known to the Nine Realms. Why did he still hang on to that last thread of life?

A macabre smirk slowly emerged upon his scarred face. He laughed once, silently, with a heaving gasp of pain as the motion rattled his newly bruised ribs. The Chitauri had indeed found out of his late night rambles through the nearby forests, and had punished him accordingly.

The trickster knew he should be thinking of a way out, but the past 12 months had reduced the once-prodigious god into a trembling mass of pale skin and rattling bones, with a little bit of magic weaved in.

In the dim light of his prison, he looked as if he was at death's door, and understandably so. The Chitauri had taken the utmost pleasure in tearing Loki apart, mercilessly, piece by piece, pulling light from the depths of his broken mind and destroying it in front of him. The god could do nothing but watch as the Chitauri went through every buried memory and every hidden thought with relentless determination and a ravenous hunger for revenge.

Loki was utterly helpless as he finally lay propped up against the cold stone wall of his cell. Dried blood caked his dented armour, the metallic tang that continuously hit the roof of his mouth was overpowering, not to mention incredibly irritating.  
His armour weighed heavily upon his bony shoulders, and his breathing became increasingly laboured with every passing moment. The night chill began to set in, slipping through his armour and the rips in his clothes, lingering on his skin before seeping through to the bones, eliciting a shuddering breath from Loki, a cry for help threatening to escape his thin lips. But the god's resolve held fast, and he did not make a sound.

Night would fall and bring him comfort in sleep, if he could ignore the pain that shot through his body like electrical surges, jarring and restricting his ability to move. Yes, sleep would wrap its comforting arms around him and soothe him, nurse his injuries and keep him from harm. Just like a child in a mother's embrace.

Loki immediately regretted making that analogy, as he felt a sudden sense of longing for his childhood, the happiness that he felt there, the security and the love he so longed for now.

The few intact memories of he and Thor wreaking havoc upon the palace were all he had after the Chitauri had got their hands on him. And they were just that, memories. Nothing that ever felt like it could be real again.

The simple, childlike longing had left Loki plunging into a deep pool of thoughts; he was too tired to swim so he let himself drown in them. They took him right back to almost a year ago, where he was hanging off the broken Bifrost.

Loki didn't regret letting go. Falling through the void had numbed him enough to the point where he no longer cared; he had no feelings, no worries and no pressures. No, he accepted it, embraced it, even. In his mind, it was simple; Odin would never accept him as an equal, and Thor had the throne in his grasp. Not that he wanted it anyway.  
Of course, he could have stayed and become Thor's advisor, but that sense of being trapped in Thor's shadow would not leave his mind alone. If anything, it would only continue to fester and grow until it simply consumed the trickster's mind and turned him against the people he loved.

"No, I don't _love_ them. How can I?" The trickster murmured to himself, feeling all the aches and pains dissipate slowly as night began to wrap her arms around his broken body. However, a lingering stab of pain that ran through his chest as he murmured that sentence caused his thin lips to stretch into a humourless smile. _Of course. Even the trickster cannot trick himself, _the god thought as he let his eyes close, the smile receding as quickly as it had appeared.

In the end, it would make no difference if he had made a different call that day.

But what he did regret was his cowardice amongst the Chitauri. They found him, captured him and caged him like a wild animal. Helpless and weakened from the fall, Loki was alone and vulnerable. The Chitauri abused this new found power over the god, and it was when he finally surrendered that a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling settled deep in his stomach. When faced with death or betrayal of his family through destroying Midgard, he'd chosen the latter.

_Of course I'm not a worthy son_, Loki's mind raced as he lay on the cell floor, torturing himself further with sleep lingering tantalizingly close. _Only a coward would take the easy way out. _


	5. IMPORTANT AN: Please Read!

**Supermassive A.N:**

_Sorry if I got your hopes up and you thought this was a new chapter *slaps wrist* bad writer!_

**First of all, I can't express how sorry I am for neglecting this fic so badly! It was more of a writing exercise based upon one fleeting thought I had a while ago, and I certainly wasn't expecting the response I got which I am incredibly grateful for. **

**I've been through a bout of personal problems recently, both with health and school, so I have done pretty much zilch for any of my stories right now. For this reason, I've been considering what to do with each of them, but first and foremost I have to sort this one out. **

**I'm juggling two options right now:**

**a) Carry on writing the story and put Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey/Loki: King of England away (taking them down and re-writing) for another time and concentrate on Saviour or Destroyer**

**or**

**b) Pass the baton onto someone else. **

**In all honesty, I've lost interest in this story as my interest in Loki's character grew, and my idea for this story just doesn't fit the new character mold I want to apply. I'd rather see someone who really loves this story continue to develop it rather than me kind of... ploughing out chapters that I don't feel great about, y'know?**

**I suppose I could just scratch it completely, but the response I got suggests that that option wouldn't be highly appreciated.. x) so I'd like to know what you guys think. If you want to have a go at this story yourself, just send me a PM and we'll talk it out! I don't bite! :P **

**Again, I apologise for neglecting SoD so badly and for getting anyone's hopes up for a new chapter. **


	6. FINAL AN: New Story Author

**Another AN, sorry guys! **

**Okay, it's official, Saviour or Destroyer will be out of my hands as of next week. I'm sorry to those who wanted me to continue it, but I'm sure you'll find the new author: Sergeant Hiddles will do a brilliant job with this story! They'll be posting up the story in about a week, so keep an eye out for it there!**

**Thank you,**

**LJ**


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